


All Our Ereyesterdays

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Scene, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Extended Scene, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Nerdy Flirting, Spacetime Challenge @ thefitzsimmonsnetwork, The Dirty Half Dozen AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: In which Fitz discovers that a good vocabulary can go a long way.[The Dirty Half Dozen Alternate Scene]





	All Our Ereyesterdays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [recoveringrabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/recoveringrabbit/gifts).



> Rabbit challenged me to write a story using [these words](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/163493608673/memorizingthedigitsofpi-naked-mahariel), knowing I have a weakness for both challenges and excellent vocabulary. I have been both choused and wheedled.

 

Fitz watched carefully as Jemma looked towards Kara Palamas in disbelief.

"Whatever that is," she said, "that's not love."

"No," he scoffed, eager to agree. "'Course not."

_Love_ , Fitz thought, was an interesting word to use in that moment, seeing as she had just written him a note and signed it "Love, Jemma."

Which reminded him—

"Hey, thank you for packing the sandwich before I left," he said, looking down at his lap. "It was really delicious."

He met her eyes and found her smiling at him. 

"You're quite welcome."

His plan was to continue thanking her, explaining his gratitude in more detail until he finally got to the note, but before he could find the words—

"But I just don't understand why Coulson would take Ward on a mission!" Jemma marched behind the counter indignantly, out of Fitz's line of sight. "It's simply too dangerous!" 

And that, Fitz realized, was the perfect opening. Changing tactics, he pushed off the counter and careened in his rolling chair in what he hoped was devastatingly debonair manner.

"Yeah," he scoffed again, "for _Ward_ , maybe."

Seeing that this had piqued her attention caused his adrenaline to spike, but he a carried on: "I attacked him back on the quinjet. Hunter had to pull me off him, so."

Jemma's smile became luminescent. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah," he affirmed, straightening his shirt as he puffed out his chest. "Lucky for him. You know, what I should have done is toss him from the plane."

"Yeah," agreed Jemma, "that would have been fitting."

_Fitting_ , of course, was also an interesting word to use, seeing as how he and Jemma fit together. That, and it displayed a command of the English language that Fitz found very attractive.

And if _he_ thought it was attractive . . . 

"But perhaps," said Jemma, "there's a better way still." 

When he heard her open a briefcase, he simply had to peek inside.

"Splinter bombs?"

"Simply find Ward alone," explained Jemma, "stick one of these on, and poof! No more Ward!"

"Yeah," he agreed, "that would be a quite _fitting_ way for, um . . . wait."

He'd gotten carried away, too giddy to be in her presence to realize the mistake he just made. "Actually," he said, correcting himself, "that wouldn't be fitting at all. But we could . . ." He couldn't help but smirk as he thought of the word. ". . . _defenestrate_ him."

That got her to turn to him, raising an eyebrow in what looked like amusement.

"Yes," she said, "or we could _cornobble_ him, since he threw us in the ocean."

"Yeah, yeah." Fitz said, his pulse quickening. "Actually, first we should cornobble him, then we should _yerd_ him, and _then_ defenestrate him." 

He smiled when he saw the twinkle in her eyes, pleased beyond words that they could share this little joke.

"He'd be a _whipjack_ when he found his way to shore," Fitz mused, "concocting some story so people would think he ended up there by accident." He sighed, trying to think of more impressive words he knew. "He'd stand there, in nothing but his _balbriggan_ , hoping someone would be kind enough to give him a  _roddikin_ to eat."

He paused, waiting and hoping for some kind of reaction, and was rewarded when Jemma closed the briefcase and stepped closer to him, smiling like the cat the got the cream.

"I hope he ends up in one of those weird towns where you can get arrested for almost anything," said Jemma, "like loitering, or telling someone they look _lingible_."

It was then that Fitz realized Jemma had gotten so close that her shins brushed his knees and, telling himself that he wasn't a fool, he decided to stand up. He did it carefully, giving her a chance to step back if she wanted.

She didn't seem to.

He had to clear his throat to prevent himself from swallowing his own tongue.

"Or," he said, grasping for something to say, "or, they could arrest him for _rhotacism_."

"Now," said Jemma, and Fitz was either having a psychotic break, or she was resting her hand on his chest, "that _would_ be fitting. Finally, his silver tongue would get him the ending he deserves."

Fitz was sure his brain was going to blink out, as any circuit would overheat when hit by anything like the adrenaline that was surging through his veins. He loved Jemma, and she _knew_ he loved her, but he never would have dreamed that anything as wonderful as this could ever happen. 

Except, that she had reached for his hand the last time their world had fallen apart.

Except, that she had left him with a "Love, Jemma" when they decided to put their world back together.

And if this was really what she wanted, knowing that it was what _he_ wanted, who was he to stand in her way? 

"When should we do it?" Jemma asked, her eyes sparkling in delight. "I could ask Coulson to let me on the mission, and we could find a way to be alone with him."

Or, Fitz thought, they could just find a way to be alone.

It was almost too much for him to take, and Fitz hardly knew what to do with it. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever been so successful at flirting. He swallowed and took the hand that was on his chest, holding it against him as he brought her other hand to rest against it. His whole body was on fire, but if he could just find enough brain cells, everything could change.

"I think," he croaked, silently cursing himself, "I mean, I wish we could have done it _ereyesterday_ , but maybe we should wait for _overmorrow_."

Her eyebrows raised toward her hairline, and he almost wanted to cheer. 

"Oh?" She tilted her head to look at him. "Why would we wait?"

He had to take in a deep breath to steady himself. He wanted to say something clever; one last, witty line that would cement whatever this was into place, but when her tongue darted over her lips, all words failed him.

Instead, he simply kissed her.

He probably could have done it with more finesse, though to be honest, he wasn't very practiced. But he was pretty sure he got his point across. Her hands slid out of his and went up his neck, landing on his face as his arms slid around her waist. This had to be a dream, except it was better; except he never could have imagined anything like this. He kept his eyes closed when the kiss ended, wishing beyond all hope that he could make the moment last. When he finally opened his eyes, he found her smirking back at him.

"I think you have a point," she said, rubbing her thumb against his stubble in a way that made him melt. "Perhaps we have more important things to attend to."

And he was going to agree, to spout out something romantic or clever or endearing, but in the end, he simply didn't have the words.

But when she leaned in for a second kiss, pulling him even closer than he was before, he found he didn't mind.


End file.
